


Hiraeth

by wangardium



Category: GOT7
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, dark!jjp, very angst but also cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wangardium/pseuds/wangardium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kunpimook Bhuwakul had a plan, one that involved gangs and weapons -- but, definitely, not Kim Yugyeom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is my first fanfiction in english.  
> \- a massive thank you to rose & cee, my guardian angels, for helping me with the grammar mistakes and the title.  
> \- probably a long ass fic.  
> \- have in mind that i've never been in south korea so some places and concepts are, neatly, figments of my imagination.  
> \- some ages were altered. 
> 
> [WARNING] this fanfic includes:  
> a) description of violence, panic attack and mental disorders, such as anxiety and depression  
> b) use of drugs and alcohol  
> c) violent and property crimes  
> d) death mention

 

 **hiraeth,** pronounced [hɨraɪ̯θ]: 

(n.) a deep; wistful, nostalgic sense of longing for home;

a home that is no longer of perhaps never was.

_a yearning and wistful grief of people and things long gone._


	2. THE ONE WHERE BAMBAM ROBS A STORE

 

The night was cold, welcoming the new season that was arriving in the city; the streets were filled with cherry blossoms, which no longer carried the pink and bright features, but some type of reddish orange, stating that autumn was there.

It was around 1:00 a.m. when Bambam walked into the all-night store some meters away from the park. He was wearing a simple black cap, dirty dark jeans and a plaid shirt that was too thin for the boy handle the breeze that was coming from outside.

He felt his entire body shivering while his eyes were studying the place. There was solely one security camera, he concluded, in the corner pointing directly to the cash; Bambam, then, looked down to it and swallowed dryly when he noticed the cashier was a boy twice his size. This one had incredible wide shoulders and red hair that could blind someone if they looked at it for too long.

Bambam swallowed dryly again when he saw the cashier looking back at him.

"Can I help you?" he asked, setting aside the manga that his hands were supporting.

"Th-there's no need to, thanks." Bambam bowed, walking too fast to the other side of the store and almost tripping over his own feet.

He tried to calm himself down, while pretending to get some soda from the freezer; he shivered again because of the cold, although his hands were sweating.

Bambam turned his gaze to the window; they were there and they were waiting.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, closing the freezer and slowly traipsing to the grocery session.

He roamed his fingers through the many types of chocolate and chips brands. _This is so fucking stupid_ , he thought; why the hell he was so nervous? Jaebum said clearly to him 'just grab a bottle and leave,’ it sounded so simple and it was, in fact, the simplest job the oldest had given to him that far (at least, that one didn’t involve weapons). Thus, he shouldn't be feeling like he was stealing a bank, and casually becoming a horrible human being -- however, that was the first time the youngster was causing a default on his own, and it was too alarming.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" The cashier asked him again, watching how Bambam seemed out of place.

"I'm fine," Bambam reassured him, trying to sound as less suspicious as he could and looking back at the window. He felt Jaebum's burning gaze from the other side of the street and sighed. He should be quick, _the leader was getting impatient_.

Bambam acted like he was choosing between a packet of Snickers and Haribo, in an attempt to make the red haired boy stop looking at him like he was hiding a gun or something. It took some time, but it worked. Deliberately, he went to the alcohol session and grabbed a Black Label bottle. "Just grab and leave", he recalled.

"Aren't you too young for Johnnie Walker?" The cashier wondered.

"Yeah," he answered, before taking a deep breath and running out of the store.

"Hey!" Bambam heard the cashier's voice yelling at his back and rushed his steps. "You fucking brat, come back here!"

 

* * *

 

Bambam didn't know for how long he was running, but it seemed like his legs would turn into dust at any second. He was dizzy and didn't have a clue where Jaebum and his friends were, nor where the hell he was.

He felt like someone was squeezing his heart with their bare hands when he finally ceased, defeated by the weather and his own self. His vision was blurry and all he could see were the different colours coming from the traffic lights and vast skyscrapers of the unknown avenue.

It didn’t take a lot of time for him to let go of the bottle and hear the sound of shattering glass; his legs gave in, but, for some reason, he didn't feel his body hitting the floor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Come on!" The voice sounded distant, but Bambam knew it was directed to him. "Wake up, dude, wake up!"

It was still hard to breath, therefore, before he could even open his eyes properly, his throat scratched and he started coughing. Two hands were holding him firmly by his shoulders and pushing his upper body up, so he could get some fresh air -- for a second, the warmth coming from the stranger’s hands made him feel this peculiar sense of safety that he was unfamiliar with for years now. He couldn’t help himself to think about his mother, and how far she was, probably sleeping, comforted by the idea that her son was somewhere safe, studying or maybe sleeping as well -- but _definitely_ not stealing things from convenience stores.

His eyes started tearing and Bambam wondered if it was because of his coughs or because he knew he had fucked everything up. Maybe it was both.

"Are you okay?" He heard the voice once again, clearer and closer than ever, making him notice it belonged to the cashier.

Bambam, feeling like oxygen was welcomed by his lungs again finally opened his eyes -- and there was the tall boy, with his cheeks as red as his hair. "Not really, but you still can punch me if you want."

The cashier snorted. "I want to, but I'll give you a chance to pay for the bottle, which, by the way, you’ve broken." The other pointed to the pieces of glass, some centimetres away from them, "so yeah, I'm kind of feeling some second-hand embarrassment."

In that moment, he realized that him that the red haired boy and himself were both on the ground, Bambam resting his head on the other's thighs and, surprisingly, not feeling cold.

"Why did you help me?" He asked, trying to get up, but giving up once he was too weak to do so. "You should’ve just left me here."

"If you had not broken the fucking bottle, you can bet I wouldn't have even thought to pick you up before you fell down. But, since you did, I need to make sure you'll live, so you can give me my 60,000 won.” He ranted, with annoyance in his voice. “If you don’t, my boss is going to make me pay for it and I'm taking a night shift to gain money, not to lose even more."

"Well, you truly should've left me." Bambam proclaimed, forcing himself to get up and letting a sigh of pain emerge from his mouth when he finally did. "'Cause I won't pay for it."

The cashier laughed, getting up as well. "You won't pay for it?"

Bambam confirmed, nodding his head and rubbing his eyes in the desperate – and pointless – hope that it'd help the headache to go away.

"Well, you will pay. You _have_ to pay." The other said in the most serious tone Bambam had ever heard.

"Dude, look, I appreciate your help, but I don't have the money. And, like I already told you, you can punch me and-" Bambam didn't get to finish the sentence, since the cashier really, and simply, punched his face.

Once again, he was on the ground -- and this time his head definitely had hit the floor.

 

* * *

 

“Are you really asking me to keep a fucking delinquent in my apartment?” Bambam heard a miffed whisper coming from his side.

“Jackson, first of all, it’s _our_ apartment, I pay the bills too. And, secondly, it’s just until I come back…” He heard another whisper, this one softer, but still hesitant.

His head-- no, his entire body hurt. Bambam tried to open his eyes but regretted it the same second he did, due the distressing pain that it caused, closing them right after; his cheek seemed to be swelling his entire face and when he licked his upper lip, he got to taste his own blood.

“I need to go back to the store before Mr. Choi finds it without anyone! I just locked the door but everything still working over there. Please. I can’t let this boy go… He needs--” The boy stuttered.

“He needs to pay you, okay! I got it after the 12th time you’ve told me this,” the other gasped, “but I am telling you, Yugyeom… If this asshole tries to steal anything, especially my Harry Potter collection--”

The other voice interrupted him, “Jackson, no one cares about your Harry Potter collection! And he won’t do anything… I already checked, he has no weapons, and, by the way, I think he’s sick or…” The whispers went mute before he could hear the end of the sentence. Some short time after, Bambam blacked out again.

 

* * *

 

His head was still hurting when he felt a soft hand pressing against his forehead.

It was like someone was hammering his brain when he opened his eyes, seeing one strand of red hair, and then another, and another one... Each one of them connecting to a round and tired face looking down at him with a certain concern.

Bambam didn’t say anything, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have the strength. It was like he was stuck in a bad dream and couldn’t move.

“It’s okay, it’s me, the cashier from the store you robbed.”

 _How could that be okay?_ He was in some place he didn’t know about, with the person that he robbed from and got hit by. That was far from okay -- and if Bambam had ever learnt something from the action movies his older brother used to let him watch with him, he was as screwed as Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction.

“I…” Bambam groaned. “I-I need to… to go…”

“I doubt you can go somewhere when you’re dying of fever.” The other grunted.

Bambam, however, ignored him, feeling some of his pain come out as tears when he tempted to get up of the bed -- or whatever he was laying on. The last time he had felt as weak like that was when… “Jaebum.” He whispered.

“What?” The cashier frowned.

“Im… Im… Jae…”

“Im Jaebum? Like… JB? _That_ Jaebum?” The other’s eyes got wide, and even wider when he noticed that Bambam nodded. “What’s up with him? Are you… Are you one of them?”

Bambam didn’t know how to respond to that, simply because he wasn’t sure about it. Although, he knew that if the answer was ‘yes’, he certainly didn’t want to be part of JB’s gang, but there still were pendent discussions to finish -- and if the answer was ‘no’, he’d have to face something much bigger than being kidnapped by the person that punched him, once he would find himself out of that place.

“Pl- please…” Bambam cried out, not answering the question, while feeling like his entire body was breaking into million pieces. “Just… don’t...” His train of thought was alright lost when his vision turned black and he couldn’t hear anything once again.

 

* * *

 

> Bambam was sitting in front of a black table, with the palms of his hands leaning on it, one apart from another; his posture was straight and his eyes were focused in the only dot of light that existed in the room. He was feeling anxious, like a billion ants were running through his arms and feeding from his chest.
> 
> “Bambam…” He listened to the familiar mocking voice right behind him, followed by a heavy, and almost macabre, laugh. “Your name suits you so well, you know? It’s as stupid as you. God, Bam, I gave you a simple job and you failed.”
> 
> Bambam tried to turn around and face him, but he seemed to be petrified, not being able to look at anything but the bright dot. “Jaebum...”
> 
> “It’s JB for you.” A cold hand grabbed his neck, Jaebum’s fingers being long enough to wrap around it completely. “I’m tired of you and your weakness, Bam. How many chances I’ve gave you already?”
> 
> “Please, JB!” One tear of desperation fell. “I… I can get better. I’ll be better, just please… Don’t…”
> 
> “Look at you… Begging.” He sounded disgusted, his fingers getting tighter around the youngest neck. “You’re more miserable than I thought.”
> 
> “JB, no…” But it was too late, his fingers closed, making it impossible to breathe.
> 
> “You’ll never come back home, Kunpimook.” He felt Jaebum’s whisper burning his ear. “Just like your brother never did.”

 

Bambam woke up, feeling as suffocated as he was in the dream -- but relieved enough to catch some air when he saw the red haired boy sleeping on the chair next to him.


	3. THE ONE WHERE JACKSON ALMOST EXPLODES

There was something curiously familiar about that place; something that would make Bambam feel almost - _almost_ \- at home. Maybe it was the bed, as soft as the one he had left at his house in Thailand, or maybe it was the smell: coffee and old tv shows. Anyhow, the boy had to make an extra force to get up, although it had nothing to do with his headache or sore legs -- just the imaginary and trenchant hole in his chest and the difficulty to remember the details of his mother’s face.

He tried to be as quiet as possible to not wake up the red haired youngster that kept sleeping on the chair, next to the bed he was laying on minutes ago; thus, walking slowly out of the small room while biting his bottom lip, in an attempt to not let any whimper leave his mouth.

Bambam, whilst carrying his powerless body through the corridor, got surprised by the reflection of his face in one tiny mirror hanging on the wall. His cheek was swollen, but it wasn’t as awful as he thought it would be. There were two band-aids covering the bruise, a detail that made Bambam turn around his head and look, from the ending of the dark corridor he was standing in, into the room he had just left, specifically, at the cashier resting on his chair. _What’s up with this dude? Why would he take care of me?,_ he wondered to himself.

Bambam watched the red haired-individual’s chest slowly going up and down, in the rhythm of his own breath. Right there, serene and lost in his dreams, that boy seemed unreal. He didn’t know why, but Bambam felt a crazy desire to touch those red hair strands. Instead, he held himself back; looking once again in the mirror and letting a loud exclamation come out of his mouth when he saw, in the corner of the reflection, an older blond guy with his arms crossed -- staring back at the youth like he was about to eat him alive.

 

* * *

 

“What’s your name?” He asked for the millionth time.

“I won’t tell you.” Bambam answered for the millionth first.

Bambam and the blond guy were in the living room -- well, if you could call that a living room at all. There wasn’t nothing special about it, but its simplicity turned it into a weird place; the room consisted in an old couch and a 14-inch TV on the ground. It was 2016, where the hell did they find a 14-inch TV?

“Well, you won’t leave until you say your goddamn name.”  The oldest said sharply.

“Then I should probably start helping with the rent.” The other hit back, sarcastically.

“Paying for the fucking bottle you broke would be a good start.”

“What’s all this noise about?” The red haired boy appeared, stretching his muscles and yawning at the same time. “Oh, you are up.”

“ _'Oh, you are up?’'_ ”, the blond repeated, unbelieving. “This kid steals the store you work at, gets hit and, for some reason, taken care by you, stays 3 nights in my house when you clearly said it was going to be for just few hours, and you come and say ‘oh, you are up’? Where’s your head at?”

“Calm down, Jackson.” He replied simply, turning his gaze to Bambam right after. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t fucking believe!” Jackson mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “Are you being serious, Yugyeom?!”

The cashier ignored him, sitting next to Bambam, whom had been watching everything with some sort of impatience. “ _3 nights when you clearly said it was going to be for just few hours_ ”, his mind finished to absorb what the blond guy had just said.

“I’ve been here for 3 nights?” Bambam questioned, more to himself than to anyone else, already feeling his legs shaking and his hands starting to sweat.

“Yeah…” Yugyeom answered. “But it’s fine, don’t-”

“It’s not fine!” Jackson bawled, still standing in the middle of the living room and looking like he was going to explode soon. “This boy _stole_ from you!”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes: “And I punched his face and got him unconscious for two days, that make us even.”

“What’s your fucking problem? You said yourself that you wouldn’t let him go without paying you!”

“Well, that was before…” He stopped himself for a moment, clearly hesitant -- Bambam tried to understand why -- then, biting his nails, the boy continued: “I changed my mind, okay?”

“No!” Bambam noticed the blond haired guy’s face turning red when he directed his rant to him. “You’re going to pay for the damage you made or we are going to hand you to the police.”

“I think the police has more important things to deal with than a Johnnie Walker bottle being stolen, hyung.”

“They do”, Bambam confirmed, finally reaching the pinnacle of his anxiety and standing up. “I really need to go.”

Jackson’s jaw flexed when, suddenly, he grabbed the youngest by his shirt -- leading Yugyeom to get up immediately.

“Hyung, come on, stop this!” He exclaimed, putting the oldest hand down. “Let’s try to stop with the free violence from now on.”

“Yugyeom, I don’t care about your change of priorities, I won’t let this boy go until-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Bambam grunted. “Can’t you chill for a second?! It was just a fucking bottle and I didn’t want to steal it, in the first place, I was told to do it!”

Bambam regretted the same second he opened his mouth; he shouldn’t be spreading what he was told or not to do, especially for strangers. Although the world was full of crimes, much bigger than stealing stores, each crime had the same burden for Jaebum. In fact, Bambam was almost convinced that for that man, bottles and people worth the same. So, every little mistake could  not only put his own self but everyone, that would dare to get involved, in danger.

“Who told you do it, then?” Jackson insisted.

“JB.” Yugyeom answered before the other could say anything.

The room got quiet and Bambam’s head returned to hurt.

 

* * *

 

Park Jinyoung hated a lot of things: summer, cats, football, heights, his father, swimming, american tv shows, Woody Allen, tomato sauce, but, mostly, how he did whatever Im Jaebum would ask him to -- varying between taking the trash out to jumping in front of a car.

That night, however, he didn’t had to risk his life: just walk around Seoul looking for a teenager he didn’t give a fuck or two about, which was so tiresome that he definitely wouldn’t mind being hit by a truck.

It was past midnight when he found himself in a dark alley, kicking some plastic boxes and glass bottles of cheap beer out of his way; his back was hurting and his hair was somewhat greasy, making him feel the suffocating need to get under a shower as soon as possible.

“I hate JB”, Jinyoung lied to the silence while hugging himself in an attempt to defeat the cold.

The man was walking for, approximately, three hours and still had no clue of Kunpimook Bhuwakul’s whereabouts -- thought, he couldn’t feel disappointed with himself since his effort to find him was minimal.

Usually, Jinyoung was really good with the investigation and digging out part of the gang’s business, indeed, Jaebum would compliment him about it almost every day -- yet, that seemed the only thing that the oldest truly liked about him, his skills to find weak boys seeking for adventures, so he could turn them into criminals. Maybe that was the reason why Jinyoung didn’t like Bambam that much: he didn’t find the boy, the boy came to them -- how he found their shelter, yet, was still a mystery.

“ _I will devote my life to you JB, I swear, just accept me in the group_ ”, he recalled the boy’s words, like echoes in his head. Jinyoung also remembered how ridiculously useless Bambam looked when he said that, and, ‘till that day, he just kept proving Jinyoung’s point. Jaebum accepted the boy, after all -- which Jinyoung knew that he’d do anyway, since Bambam had the exact same face of his older brother and Jaebum was addicted to pain (and deeply stuck into the past).

“Dumbass.” Jinyoung, once again, said to the emptiness, not even knowing if he was referring to Jaebum or Bambam. Probably both. Yeah, definitely both.

It took Jinyoung another frigid breeze breaking into his skin, and the vision of a mouse feeding itself with a piece of old bread, to decide to abort the mission and get drunk in the closest bar around.

 

* * *

 

“H-how do you know about this?” Bambam’s voice shimmered while he looked back to the cashier; his eyes wide opened and lips dry.

“You said it”, Yugyeom shrugged. “I thought it was just a fever delirium or something but, judging by your face, I guess it wasn’t.”

Bambam couldn’t hide his astonishment regarding that observation, thus, he kept staring at the boy in front of him, trying to relate him to the one that was looking so vulnerable on his chair some minutes before.  

“Hold up!” Jackson exclaimed in a high pitched tone, making his indignation apparent and Bambam turn his attention to him. “You… You work for JB?”

 _Work,_ well, Bambam wouldn’t put it in that way -- even if he still called the oldest his boss, feared to say his real name in front of him and agreed to do everything the man requested him to. It didn’t matter what his actions spoke for him or what the others believed, to Bambam working was something valuable, something you should be proud of, a place you get paid _and_ get recognized for your effort. What Bambam did for JB was of no value at all, in fact, stealing stores and learning how to manage a gun would never make the teen feel anything but less human. And, of course, since that wasn’t a job he couldn’t simply quit -- and even if he could, he wouldn’t, not before he reached his purpose: rescue what's left of his and his brother's dignity and take it back to Bangkok with him.

“I just… take orders.” He said sincerely, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. “Now, please, I really need to go.”

Jackson stopped him again, in a way much gentler than before, by holding his wrist and looking at him with dense eyes. There wasn’t anger in his gaze anymore, but there was something that reminded the younger of his father.

“I’m going to let you leave, but only with the promise you won’t come back-”

“Hyung…” Yugyeom tried to interrupt him, Jackson just raised a hand in his direction, as asking him to be quiet.

“Only with the promise you won’t come back, nor mention this place and what happened.” The blond continued.

For some reason, Bambam looked away from him to Yugyeom. The red haired boy seemed to be holding himself back, his lips were half-open and his eyes were the only sparkly thing in that room. Bambam could tell that Yugyeom didn’t want him to go, he just didn’t know why he wanted him to stay, and that doubt was enough for him to nod at Jackson, which, satisfied, opened the passage. The youngest, finally, walked out of the apartment, and, as the door closed behind him, he heard the voice of a teenager yelling “I fucking hate you, Jackson!”.

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung would prefer somaek over beer; not because of its taste, since it was basically the same, but because it would make him forget about his day 3 times faster. However, that night he could only drink two cups of beer considering neither Kihyun nor Jimin was there to drag him back home.

He was about to finish the second glass when he felt something vibrating in his jeans’ pocket; a long sigh left his mouth while he grabbed the phone inside of it.

 

 

 

 

> **From: Jaebum**
> 
> **Sent: 12:24, Sunday**
> 
> Did you find the boy?

 

Jinyoung scratched his neck, taking a look around the bar before answering.

 

 

 

 

> **From: Jinyoung**
> 
> **Sent: 12:25, Sunday**
> 
> Not yet.
> 
> **From: Jaebum**
> 
> **Sent: 12:25, Sunday**
> 
> Come back home.

 

He ended the last two gulps left in his cup, took 5,000 won out of his wallet, threw it over the table and got up.

 

 

 

 

> **From: Jinyoung**
> 
> **Sent: 12:27, Sunday**
> 
> I’m on my way.

 

* * *

 

 

Bambam didn’t like Seoul at night; as a matter of fact, he didn’t like Seoul at all. He knew that it had nothing to do with the city itself but what those streets reminded him of. There was not one single avenue that didn’t seem to include JB’s mark: that asphyxiant mood and his citric perfume. Though, Bambam knew it was impossible for a 25 year-old man to cause so much damage to an entire metropolis, he caused Bambam damage enough for him to believe in the opposite.

The boy was still in front of the cashier’s building, trying to figure out where he was going from there. For sure, he didn’t want to go to JB’s shelter; even if his fever was gone, his body still hurt with any slight movement and facing JB wouldn’t help him to recover. No, he still had to come up with a plan, a good lie about where he was during these three nights; good enough for not only Jaebum believe, but also Jinyoung.

Bambam knew he should be careful with his words; elaborate sentences for each probable question JB could ask him and definitely, in any circumstances, not mention the red haired boy and his friend. He had no idea what Jaebum could do if he found out he was staying in their apartment during all that time, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good thing.

_For that man, bottles and people worth the same._

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung took off his shoes once he arrived home, where the only light on was coming from outside, through the small window in the kitchen. He sighed, but before the boy could turn around and go to the bathroom -- tempted to drown himself in a long and hot bath -- the familiar citric perfume started manifesting behind him.

It felt automatic when he closed his eyes, the smell growing as faster as his heartbeats.

While Park Jinyoung hated a lot of things, he loved a few: winter, old rock discs, books, cherry blossoms, underdone meat, Im Jaebum, Im Jaebum, Im Jaebum…

“You took too long to arrive,” The hoarse voice sounded like music, warm and soft, against his ear, “I was worried.”

Jinyoung couldn’t avoid a silly smile. “Your lies may work with those teenagers, hyung, but not with me.”

Jaebum laughed; a laugh that would make Jinyoung more intoxicated than any drink or drug. “Why do you always paint me as someone who’s unable to feel, Jinyoung?”

The youngest, taking a deep breath, turned around -- the perfume now stronger than ever.

 _Gosh, he is beautiful_ , he concluded, scared that the oldest could hear his thoughts, although no one needed to be a psychic to realize that.

“Are you?” Jinyoung teased.

Jaebum was close, the closest he had been to him in a month; in fact, if Jinyoung lifted his index finger just a little bit, he could touch the other’s skin and yet wouldn’t seem real at all.

“Sometimes.” He whispered.

“Prove it.”

Jaebum smirked, licking his lips while staring at Jinyoung’s. Thenceforth, everything was calm; Jaebum started running his hand through the boy’s arms -- feeling how easily he’d shiver with his touch -- then, his fingers reached the back of his neck, playing with the strands of black hair while putting Jinyoung’s head closer to his. Their foreheads touched, but not their lips, no, not yet.

Jaebum took a step forward, and another, and another, ‘till the weight of his body pushed the other’s against the wall.

Jinyoung gasped, feeling Jaebum’s wet kisses being deposited on his neck, one by one; it being the perfect mix of rack and pleasure.

He ran his hands through the oldest back; sensing each muscle and memorizing it. Jinyoung considered that it was all a dream, that JB was still distant and almost unreachable. But, suddenly, he noticed how hard the other was pressing his hips against his and how good the bites he would make on his shoulder hurt. Was that possible? Were  _they_ possible?

“JB…” Jinyoung called, pulling the Jaebum’s hair up, so he could look at him.

They stared at each other for one second; both lips half-opened, that thrilling wave between their eyes. Im Jaebum was real, after all.

Jinyoung wanted to ask him, and, at some point, he almost did; however, he knew it would ruin the moment -- and he couldn’t allow that to happen, not when he missed Jaebum that much, not when his entire body ached when he was not around and seemed to break when he was.

Jinyoung had to hold back his tears when the oldest touched his face, as smooth as the first time he did. It was painful but it was Jaebum. His own heaven and his personal hell.

They kissed, and Jinyoung had no idea who did it first and he didn’t really care; he was just glad he could taste the aphrodisiac flavour of cheap cigarette, mint and spring once again. They kissed, and even though Jinyoung couldn’t breathe, Jaebum felt like the last vestiges of oxygen in Earth. They kissed hard and ravenous, and for a second, Jinyoung almost believed Jaebum loved him back.

 

 

* * *

 

Bambam started walking; his head down, watching his feet moving one after the other. He had no clue of what he was going to do but that wasn’t the first time he didn’t had a clue about something.

He looked up, remembering when he and his brother would sneak out of their beds and chill their heads with pointless conversations on the roof. One night, when the sky were as dark as Bambam’s eyes, he asked: “Where’s the moon when we can’t see it, Bank?” He was too young back then, barely ten years old and doubtful towards everything.

“It’s still in the sky, Kunpimook,” Bank answered. “Even when we can’t see the moon nor the stars, they are still there; they are never not there. You just need to wait for the night you’ll be able to find them shining down to you again.”

That night, the same dark sky was filled up with constellations and a full moon. Bambam smiled, feeling less lonely -- like he always did when he thought about his brother.

“Hey!” He heard someone yelling behind him.

Bambam turned around, letting a sigh express his inquietude when he saw the red strands of hair getting closer. The last time that boy ran to him, he passed out for three days; thus, that vision felt like a discomforting dejavu.

“What do you want?” Bambam asked, his voice tone coming out austere.

“Are you sure… Wait.” Yugyeom stopped, trying to catch his breath after finding himself some centimeters away from the other. “Are you sure you want to go back to JB’s?”

Bambam frowned. “What?”

“You… You can stay if you want.” He put his hand over his chest, making a tired face that would cause Bambam to laugh if he was in his normal mindstate. Unfortunately, he wasn’t his regular self for a while.

“That’s not what it looked like.”

Yugyeom inhaled the dawn’s air hardly, finally calming down from the racing some seconds after. “Are you talking about Jackson? Don’t worry about him! You’d be my guest, not his.”

“Look… Yugo… Yugy…” He tried to remember the name that the blond haired man referred to him previously.

“Yugyeom.” He corrected.  

“Yugyeom! Right.” Bambam bit his nails before he could go on, “I have no idea why are you doing this, especially after all that mess I did, by the way, I hope you know I’m grateful, because I really am. But honestly, there’s no reason why you should be asking me to stay… And, even if there was one, I can’t do this, not when… JB is waiting for me somewhere.”

“It’s just…” Yugyeom looked away. “You don’t seem to like him.”

Bambam rolled his eyes, scratching his face in a way to control his annoyance.

“H-how… How can you…” Bambam huffed, pointing his finger at the red haired boy’s face. “You don’t know me! You don’t even know my name! Stop making assumptions! I… I need to go, I’m sorry.”

Therefore, he returned to walk, faster and more impatient than before.

“Do you think Bank would want this for you, Kunpimook?”

When he heard those words coming out of Yugyeom’s mouth, he felt like an entire house had broken over him; suddenly, he was suffocated by the pieces of wall, the pieces of glass, the pieces of objects, the pieces of himself, of his family… Of his brother.

“Wh-what did you say?” Bambam dryly swallowed, facing Yugyeom once again. He definitely didn’t look like the boy that was sleeping on the chair in that moment. “How… How do you know my name? How do you know about Bank?”

Tears were rolling through Bambam’s eyes and he didn’t know well if it was because he was sad, mad or just on the edge of his sanity. “Who… Who are you?”

Yugyeom looked at him with pleading eyes. “Stay and I may tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) i was supposed to post this chapter yesterday, but i didn't find any time to do it :-(  
> 2) the name of bambam's brother (in the fanfic) is the same one of bambam's real older brother's, however, i'm not going to stick with the real bank's appearance or personality while referring to the character, since i know almost nothing about him. i'm just "borrowing" his name lmao.  
> 3) hope you guys like it!


End file.
